


Silent Maiden

by curiously_me



Series: Rebirth Trilogy [2]
Category: Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2003-02-14
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2017-10-10 06:58:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/96887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiously_me/pseuds/curiously_me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An elf girl is found by Haldir on the borders of Lothlorien and returned to her father after countless years enduring the cruelty of Mordor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote this story 02/14/2003, and then promptly filed it away, never to be seen. Until now, that is. Lol, I finally managed to unearth _Silent Maiden_ and hopefully, after a little polishing, it's turned out OK.
> 
> **edit 9/1/13:** I am dusting this story off once again and look forward to re-posting existing chapters and posting new chapters in the months to come.

The only thing Dînwen could remember about her life before meeting the elf, Haldir, was pain. Everything else seemed to be covered in a veil of forgetfulness, only coming into her conscious mind when it woke her in the dark hours before dawn.


	2. Prelude I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish translations are listed in the end notes, but are also formatted so that you can hover over the elvish to see the translation while reading.

It was Dînwen's 1376th begetting day and as she sat in her father's library she thought back over the last thousand years.

With her knees pulled up to her chest, she smiled, remembering the year Elrond's half-elven twin sons were born

'Yes,' she thought, 'that was a happy year.' It had also been the first year that Dînwen had felt comfortable venturing out of her father's suites alone. Looking back, she was glad that she had finally gathered the courage to go out. If she hadn't, she would never have had the chance to meet the twins.

Elladan and Elrohir, the _Twin Stars of Imladris_, the successors to their father's realm and people; that was how they were viewed by those who did not know them.

_**Twin Terrors. **_That is how their family, friends, and those unfortunate enough to be caught in their traps called them. Over the years, Elladan and Elrohir had certainly earned the name.

Dînwen called them her little brothers. After their birth the twins were, quite easily, the best-behaved babies Imladris ever held within her walls. But, after their first meeting, Elrohir would cry himself hoarse if Dînwen tried to leave. This, of course, more than encouraged his elder brother to join him and they would cry for hours and hours before Celebrian figured out just who they wanted.

Celebrian and Elrond, the twins' parents, would just smile knowingly at their sons' possessiveness. They knew that having someone (or two some ones) depending on her would give Dînwen more confidence and the twins a much-needed older adopted-sibling.

Coming out of her thoughts with a start, Dînwen turned to the door and stared.

"I know you're there, little one," Dînwen said, her voice no louder than a whisper. She heard giggles erupt from a tiny body before the culprit stepped into the library.

"Mae govannen, Undomiel. What may I do for you?" Dînwen asked, lifting the child into her arms.

"Ada sent Arwen to find Dînwen," the child said, speaking in third-person. "Ada and Glorfindel wants you."

After pausing for a moment, _deep _in thought, Arwen deemed her message delivered and rested her head on Dînwen's shoulder.

"Well, love, if both of our fathers want me, I should make haste," Dînwen said, kissing Arwen's forehead and making her giggle softly. Arwen was the giggliest child Dînwen had ever known.

As she walked through the halls, Dînwen took in the beauty of Imladris and remembered why today was so important to her. This was to be her formal coming-of-age.

To come-of-age was to become a true adult in elven society. It meant that she would be expected to make her own decisions and to help keep Imladris running smoothly.

Coming-of-age also meant that if an elf's spirit had been reborn, they would regain the memories of their former life.

Dînwen's actual birth date was unknown. She had been found wandering in the forests surrounding Imladris, over a thousand years ago. She had no memory of where she was from, the only facts she could recall were her name, the events of an unknown battle near Minis Ithil, and the name of a traitor.

Since that time, Dînwen had been making more and more memories, slowly filling emptiness of her past.

Normally, an elf had their coming-of-age ceremony somewhere between 1000 and 1500 years of age. As with most things though, there are exceptions.

Because Dînwen was unsure of her age, she had chosen to wait until she had settled in Imladris and with her new father before formally coming-of-age.

* * *

After a few more minutes, Dînwen arrived at her Lord's office. She saw Erestor standing outside the closed door, speaking softly with Lindir.

"Dînwen, mae govannen," Lindir greeted, smiling brilliantly. He and Dînwen had met in the library on a particularly stormy night and had become fast friends as they rescued books from a leak in the ceiling.

"Mae govannen," Dînwen replied, directing her greeting to both of the elves. "Would you take Arwen to her mother?" she asked, looking down at the sleeping child in her arms.

The minstrel stepped forward, reaching for the elfling, "I would be honored to escort the Lady Arwen to her mother." He said, careful not to wake her.

Dînwen smoothed down Arwen's long ebony hair before turning once again to Erestor.

"Shall we see what the Lords of the Realm need of me, Chief Counselor?" she asked, smiling at the blush that spread across Erestor's cheekbones. She knew he was delighted, and honored, to be named Chief Counselor, but wasn't entirely sure of his ability to do the job.

Only after six-hundred years as Elrond's _Chief Counselor, _was Erestor finally coming to realize his worth and potential in the Last Homely House.

Holding out his arm to her, Erestor knocked lightly on the door. As Dînwen grasped his elbow in her hands, they heard a voice from inside the room.

"Enter."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations
> 
> Mae govannen, Undomiel: Well met, Evenstar  
> Ada: Less formal version of Father; in this case "Papa"  
> Mae govannen: Well met


	3. Prelude II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish translations are listed in the end notes, but are also formatted so that you can hover over the elvish to see the translation while reading.

"Enter," Elrond Peredhil called. He and his seneschal, Glorfindel had been waiting for Dînwen, Glorfindel's adopted-daughter to arrive.

Glorfindel stood and engulfed his daughter in a great bear hug, dwarfing her smaller body with his own. Elrond watched as father and daughter embraced, as always grateful beyond words for their close bond.

"Hannon-lle, Erestor." Glorfindel said, releasing his daughter and moving toward the Counselor.

"You are welcome, Glorfindel," Erestor replied, backing away from the warrior. "Now, if you would take a seat and leave my lungs fully functional?"

Glorfindel sulked good-naturedly, but went to his seat, drawing Dînwen with him. All four elves knew just how much Glorfindel enjoyed teasing Erestor and occasionally they would join in, either to protect the Counselor or to play their own prank on him.

Shaking his head and barely holding in his laughter as Erestor took his seat, Elrond began.

"Dînwen, we asked you to join us to ask your opinion of something." Elrond paused, waiting for Dînwen's acknowledgement before continuing.

"I have received a request from Thranduil, the King of Greenwood. He wishes for me to send four elves from my house to train with his own in an effort to foster good relations between our realms. He has requested that I send two warriors, a counselor, and a librarian.

"Apparently, they've recently discovered a large cache of documents and weapons in one of their abandoned outposts near Dol Goldur. Everything they found is dated from before the Downfall of Numenor." Elrond said.

"My lord, do you mean to say that there are pre-Alliance documents available to us?" Dînwen asked, her voice trembling slightly with suppressed glee.

"Yes, Dînwen, the wood-elves have no one experienced in the care of such old articles and asked that I send a Heb-pennas a nern to put things in order and to repair them as needed." Elrond said, this time looking at Glorfindel.

"I have chosen to send Melpomaen to represent Imladris as my counselor, Glorfindel and a warrior of his choice, and I would like for you to join them as the librarian." He stopped talking, letting his request sink in. Elrond knew that it was a huge request to ask of her.

"Adar?" Dînwen asked softly, wanting her father's reassurance.

"Tithen-pen, Elrond trusts your abilities. He knows of your love of history and lore and your desire to see such things preserved for future generations." Glorfindel said. He didn't want to pressure Dînwen into choosing what she thought he'd want, but he had no problem comforting her.

The balrog-slayer pulled his daughter to him and held her tightly against his chest. He could feel her agitation through their familial bond and ran his hand up and down her back soothingly.

"I know you fear leaving Imladris, but we believe it would be a good experience for you and that you have much to offer the elves of Greenwood."

Erestor spoke now, "The King has given is permission to borrow as many volumes as we are able to carry, to copy and add to our own libraries." He said, knowing that the King's offer would be seen as the gift it was.

Dînwen pulled away from her father and stood before her lord, shaking only a little.

"My lord, if it is your desire I will go to Greenwood," she said, drawing on a strength from deep inside herself.

Elrond was about to speak again, but Dînwen continued on, "I have one request though," she paused, "May I bring Malthener, please?"

Elrond, Erestor, and Glorfindel laughed at that, the tension in the room dissipating instantly. They had expected Dinwen to ask for a dozen carriages to transport the huge tomes she was sure to find.

Her request was unique in its simplicity and Elrond's voice held his laughter as he answered, "Of course you may take Malthener with you! He was a gift to you, you needn't have asked."

"Hannon-lle," Dînwen said, gratefully. She had trained the palomino stallion from the time he was weaned. Malthener and Dînwen could be seen every morning, racing through the valley, rejoicing in their freedom.

Malthener had originally been a gift from Elrond to his heirs, but Elladan and Elrohir turned right around and presented the colt to Dînwen. The first with his coloring, Malthener had been born ninety-three years ago and had quickly become a favorite of the stable due to his sweet nature.

The twins told their father that that year was special and their sister deserved a gift such as Malthener. At the time, Dînwen had been with them for a little over a thousand years.

"Hannon-lle, Dînwen." Elrond turned to Erestor, "Erestor, please make sure everything is ready for them to leave. I would like them to set out tomorrow afternoon." He said.

"Yes, my lord," Erestor replied, acknowledging the order as he stood. He bowed respectfully before leaving the room.

"Glorfindel, I'm sure you and your daughter would like to prepare for the journey. You are dismissed from your duties; I will assign a guard for you." Elrond said, standing and coming around his desk.

"The twins asked if you would join us for dinner; we will be eating in the family room tonight. Will you be there?"

"I know that I, personally, would love to join you," Glorfindel said, "Dînwen?"

"I agree. It is always a learning experience to eat in the presence of Elladan and Elrohir." She said, smiling at the thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations
> 
> Peredhil: Half-elf  
> Heb-pennas a nern: Keeper of history and lore/stories (Librarian)  
> Adar: Father  
> Tithen-pen: Little one  
> Hannon-lle: Thank you  
> Malthener: Golden one


	4. Prelude III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, I ask myself why I keep working on this story. I love it to pieces but when you look at all of the AMAZING fanfic written for Middle-earth, this one just isn't that great. *sigh*
> 
> Elvish translations are listed in the end notes, but are also formatted so that you can hover over the elvish to see the translation while reading.

"But, we don't want her to go!" Elladan cried, angrily.

"What if she gets hurt? We won't be there to protect her." Elrohir said, in full agreement with his brother. The adults only looked at one another as Dînwen moved to speak with the twins.

"Elladan, Elrohir, do you remember what today is?" She asked.

"Yes." Elrohir replied, as Elladan nodded in agreement. "It's your coming-of-age."

"That's right. After today, I will be considered an adult and as such will be expected to help my Lord and land in any way that I am able. That includes traveling to Thranduil's kingdom at my Lord's request." She explained. Dînwen reached out and hugged the twins to her.

"I want to do this." She said into their small ears. "Besides, my father will be with me the entire time. How much trouble do you think I could get up to with him watching?"

At that, Dînwen turned to her father, her confidence in him shining in her eyes as she smiled over the boys' shoulders.

"Come now, children. Enough of this, it is time to eat." Celebrian said, stepping forward and ushering the young ones toward the table. As she stepped past Dînwen, the Lady of Imladris smiled warmly and placed a motherly hand to the younger woman's shoulder.

They all took their seats around the table, Elrond at the head with Celebrian on his right and the twins next to her, Glorfindel sat at his left with Dînwen seated next to him. Glorfindel watched his daughter with a small amount of surprise and a great deal of pride.

'When did she lose her fear of the world?' He wondered, remembering the past. The Balrog-slayer still remembered quiet vividly the night he'd come across the little she-elf and the early fear-filled years that followed their meeting.

He had been traveling from the Grey Havens, home to Imladris, with Cîrdan, Elrond and Erestor...

* * *

"Will this rain never cease to fall upon us?" Erestor asked, pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulders in a useless attempt to keep the water from getting through.

"You do not appreciate Námo's gift to the earth?" Cîrdan asked, voice calm and still as a forest lake in the morning.

Elrond and Glorfindel tried their hardest to keep from laughing. They both recognized Cîrdan's tone of voice and knew that their young friend was being teased. Erestor was sure to be a wonderful addition to the Last Homely House, but he would have to loosen up a little around those he saw as his betters. Elrond wasn't one to stand on pomp and circumstance when it wasn't called for.

"Oh, no! That isn't what I meant at all, my lord." Erestor apologized, nearly falling from his saddle in his haste to take back his previous statement.

"Worry not, young one." Cîrdan replied, laughing gently. "The storm will be over soon."

"If I may say so, my lord." Glorfindel began, feeling mischievous and ignoring Elrond's stifled snicker. When Cirdon nodded his assent, he continued, "Wouldn't it be true to say that every elf currently living in Middle-earth qualifies as 'young one' to you?"

Erestor did fall from his horse at that, losing his balance as he turned to face Glorfindel in shock. "Glorfindel! How can you be so rude?" He spluttered, standing and brushing twigs and mud from his cloak. The other three elves all burst into laughter.

"Erestor, child, no matter what we do or say, Glorfindel will always be just the way he is." Cîrdan assured, his voice full of laughter and his eyes twinkling with mirth.

Erestor only shook his head in utter and complete confusion and began to make his way across the muddy path back to where his mount patiently waited. As he stepped across a large puddle, lightning split the sky, illuminating the forest around them for the briefest of moments.

Something slammed into Erestor as the sky lit up and they fell to the ground, tumbling and sliding down the hill until they came to a painful stop at the bottom of the ravine. Erestor gasped lightly and shook his head, attempting to focus on the world once more.

"Erestor! Are you alright?" Elrond's voice sounded weak against the backdrop of wind and rain.

Erestor didn't reply. He had managed to shake the stars from his eyes and now all of his attention was focused on the blade at his throat.

"I mean you no harm." Erestor said, calmly, trying to buy some time for the others to make their way down the steep hill. The sword's sharp edge bit sharply into his skin and a thin line of blood trickled down his neck. Just as Erestor was about to give up hope that they would reach him in time, torchlight filled the clearing.

"Erestor. Why don't you introduce us to your new friend." Glorfindel suggested from behind the stranger.

Erestor's attacker shifted as if to spin around and face the warrior behind him, but was forced to stay still. A blade at his own throat, Cîrdan's, and another at his back, Glorfindel's. Elrond stepped up to Erestor's side and gently pulled him back and away from the stranger's wavering blade.

"What is the meaning of this attack?" Cîrdan asked, taking charge as Erestor moved back and Elrond stepped forward, shielding the young scholar from view.

The figure shifted slightly, adjusting their weight as if readying himself to attack.

"Daro!" Cîrdan ordered, sharply.

The stranger froze for a moment, then slowly turned their head to the left where Cîrdan stood.

"Àni apsenë, herunya."

The four elves were stunned speechless by the weakly spoken words.

"Man nalyë?" Erestor asked, recovering from his shock enough to respond in the same old elvish tongue.

"Essenya Dînwen." The she-elf said, reaching up and pushing back her hood.

"Do you speak the Common Tongue?" Erestor asked, knowing it would be easier to converse in the common speech rather than a near-dead elvish dialect.

"Yes, I know the language of men." Dînwen replied, voice sounding raw and painful.

"Why did you attack us?" Glorfindel asked, not one to be swayed when he wanted answers.

"I did not know there was anyone else on the road and, in my haste, ran into one of your party." Dînwen explained. "Truly, I meant no harm. I was only protecting myself from an unknown."

"Where were you headed in such a hurry?" Elrond asked, speaking for the first time since entering the clearing.

"I am searching for the High-King. I have grave news for Gil-galad." Dînwen said, her tired voice gaining some strength at the words.

Once again, the four travelers were stunned into silence. Where had this creature been living, to be so out of touch with the world around her? The High-King, Ereinion, had perished at Sauron's hand nearly forty years earlier.

"Where do you come from?"

At Cîrdan's question, Dînwen seemed to close herself off from them a little. She took a deep, steadying breath before speaking again.

"That is something I do not know." She admitted. "But that matters little. I have news that could prove invaluable in our war against the dark lord. Please, take me to the High-King."

Silence reigned over the clearing for long moments, before Glorfindel said, "The war is over. We were triumphant, but Gil-galad fell whilst battling with Sauron."

For a moment, it seemed that Dînwen would speak again, but then her eyes rolled up into her head and she fainted. Her exhaustion, near-starvation, and now this shocking news pushing her beyond her limits.

* * *

Glorfindel jumped slightly in surprise when Elrond touched his arm.

"Where were you just now, mellon nin?" The half-elf asked, kindly.

"Back to when we first met Dînwen." Glorfindel said, "Do you remember that night?"

"Yes, I do. As I recall, Lord Cîrdan carried her to Imladris while you hovered like a mother hen." Elrond replied, smiling warmly at his seneschal. "You had already adopted Dînwen as your own, even then."

"She had no memories beyond those of a secret message to be delivered to the High-King and her name. How could I be expected to leave one of my kin in a world of such uncertainty?"

"You couldn't." Elrond agreed. "Nor have you been able to explain your insistence that she is descended from the line of Maedhros."

"Glorfindel, meleth, come join us." Celebrian spoke then, inviting the two elven lords back to the present and their own respective families. Back to Dînwen's final day of life as an elfling, as Glorfindel's elfling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations
> 
> Daro: Stop  
> Àni apsenë, herunya: Forgive me, my lord  
> Man nalyë: Who are you  
> Essenya Dînwen: My name is Dînwen  
> Mellon nin: My friend  
> Meleth: Love


	5. Prelude IV

They departed Imladris a month later. Having made all the necessary plans for their journey to the land of their woodland kin, the group of elves set out from Imladris, bidding farewell to friends and family. There had been tears from the Twins and little Arwen, but as a whole, the people of Imladris were pleased to see one of their own taking the steps needed to overcome her fears.

* * *

Dînwen had hoped that the actuality of traveling to Thranduil's kingdom would be enough to ease her fears. She had only stepped foot outside of Imladris' borders a handful of times in the years she had called it home.  
But she had her father and her dear friend, Melpomaen, with her and with them traveled a group of elves handpicked from the guard for this journey. Elves she had watched from afar as they trained daily to become the capable, skilled warriors they were today. She knew, intellectually, that they were safe, but the gut instinct that had kept her alive for so long was not as confident.

They had been traveling for twelve days and had reached the eastern edge of Mirkwood forest. Gazing upon the forest, Dînwen wondered when the inhabitants of Greenwood the Great had started calling it by the name it was now known by.

Mirkwood. It felt old, certainly, but there was a smoldering menace hiding in the shadows that made the horses twitchy and nervous. Something had happened to the forest, she knew, but she had thought that the enemy's reach was not yet able to gain so much control over the land.

One of the horses spooked slightly and the party of Imladris elves stopped, wary and watchful of their surroundings. It wouldn't do for them to be caught up in the midst of a fight when they were so near to the Halls of Thranduil.

Melpomaen directed his steed nearer to Dînwen's golden stallion, Malthener. He rode close enough that, as they continued on side by side, their legs brushed up against each other in a reassuring rhythm.

Dînwen glanced at her friend, attempting a small smile to reassure him, but the look on his face showed clearly that he wasn't fooled in the slightest.

"Come now, Dînwen. I have known you for as long as you have resided in the Last Homely House. Did you really think that a 'fearless face' would work on me?" He admonished, tone light and teasing.

She grinned again at the words, truer this time. It was indeed true, as Melpomaen had been one of the first elves to attempt to befriend her after the strange events of her arrival in Imladris. At the time, he had already been well on his way to becoming one of Elrond's most-trusted advisers, having traveled with the armies of the High-King and fought against Sauron's forces in many battles.

Melpomaen had taken her under his wing, making a point of drawing her into conversations with others, despite her desire to keep to herself or to hide behind her adopted-father.

And hadn't that been a humorous sight to see. A half-starved she-elf hiding behind the seneschal of Imladris every time someone dared approach her. She remembered how protective Glorfindel had been during those years, to the point of driving away all those who came near them, for fear it would scare her away from the safety and security she'd finally found in Imladris.

Elrond had had to take Glorfindel aside, speaking to him as both friend and lord, advising him to loosen his hold on Dînwen just a little, to let her meet others and allow them the chance to get to know her. How else would she make friends, the Lord of Imladris had asked. And that had been that, for the most part.

Glorfindel had taken to encouraging Melpomaen's advances, conveniently finding reasons to leave Dînwen to her own devices when the other elf was near. She'd begun to fear for his sanity during those years, as he seemed to be hearing people calling his name so very often when there was no one else around.

Thankfully, the elves of Imladris had not been put off by her stranger mannerisms or accent. Imladris, also known as the Last Homely House, was home to all who needed refuge, regardless of race or status. Lord Elrond had made a point of encouraging the open mindedness of his peoples and the people who visited his lands. Imladris had flourished, and with so many races and generations sharing history and knowledge, it's libraries were some of the finest and most detailed to be found in Middle-earth.

Dînwen had learned her trade at Melpomaen's side, having been volunteered or drafted, she couldn't remember which, into assisting him with the re-organizing of the main library after it had been rescued from certain destruction one long winter. The snows had been especially heavy that year and the roof of the library had started to give way to the elements, allowing drifts of cold white stuff to blow around and gather in corners, melting only when in contact with skin or near the fires.

They had gathered everything into the secondary library until renovations could be completed and, in the spring, the roof was again deemed whole and sound. The task of discovering just what had gone where had been left up to Melpomaen. He had, after all, come up with the original system to catalog the library of Imladris. Who better to put it back in order again?

* * *

They continued to travel well into the evening, when normally they would have stopped and made camp.

"Father, it is growing dark, will we not stop soon?" Dînwen asked her father when next he rode by her side.

"No, we are much too close to Thranduil's halls to stop now and the forest isn't as safe as it once was. Not even under the full light of the sun should we let down our guard. We will be much safer if we can make it to our destination tonight." Glorfindel reassured.

They rode on and were met on the banks of the Enchanted River by Thranduil's border guard.

"My lord, it is an honor to escort you and your party to our King's Halls." One of the sentries said, bowing to Glorfindel. "If you would, please follow us and we will be at the city within the hour."

They dismounted from their horses then, allowing the tired steeds a well deserved reprieve as they walked with the border guard. While relations with Thranduil's court had always been tenuous, neither Thranduil or Elrond had allowed this to affect the safety of their realms. Warriors from both lands had traveled to the other to learn new techniques or to better their skills so that they could defend their homes with as little loss of life as was possible with darkness once more approaching on the horizon.

It was near dark, when they reached the city and were greeted by King Thranduil and his court. As the horses were led to the stables, Glorfindel stepped forward, bowing in deference to Thranduil.

"My lord, we have traveled to your land at the request of Elrond Half-elven. It is his wish that the time we spend in your Halls will move our peoples towards a greater respect and understanding of each other. And that, with time, the hurts of the past may be set aside to allow our children to live in the hope of a brighter future." He paused momentarily, glancing to his right.

"May I introduce to the court, Melpomaen, one of Elrond's chief counselors; my daughter, Dînwen, Heb-pennas a nern of the library of Imladris; and Telethiel, a warrior who's family heralds from Lothlórien, the land of the White Lady."

"We are most honored by your presence, Glorfindel Balrog-slayer." Thranduil responded, inclining his head slightly to the warrior. "As I am certain that you are all tired from your journey, my son, Legolas, will show you to your rooms. I look forward to seeing you at dinner later this evening."

"Of course, my lord." Glorfindel agreed.

Dînwen wasn't quite sure what to do with herself. Everything sounded so stiff and rehearsed, as if Thranduil and her father were reading from a dusty tome on manners and etiquette rather than greeting the other in person.

* * *

During the time they were in Mirkwood, Dînwen became closely acquainted with the young prince, Legolas. Surprisingly, they had much in common, both enjoyed hunting and riding during the day and they were both utterly enamored with the chairs by their fireplaces, where they could curl up with a book at the end of the day and read until sleep took them.

She and the elf prince became notorious for their pranks. Though not a single one could be traced to the Prince of Mirkwood or the Elf Maiden from Rivendell, they had learned the art from true masters and it would have been a great dishonor had they left any evidence behind.

When Dînwen wasn't working, she and Legolas spent much of their time outdoors, competing in archery as good friends will. They cheered each other on, but neither gave even the smallest inch when it came down to it. After all, the honor of their homelands depended on them.

"Beat that!" Legolas taunted, as his arrow neatly skewered the heart of the apple they were using as a target. The two elves had been out riding earlier that morning and had returned to the city only to continue their archery match from the ground.

Dînwen resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at the princeling, he made her feel like she was dealing with the Twins all rolled up into one package. While it sometimes frustrated her, Dînwen was also enjoying the freedom of having fun with someone her age.

She took her place and fired of two arrows in quick succession, slicing the apple in half with the first and pinning one half to the tree as it fell to the ground with the second arrow.

"How was that?" she asked, turning to face Legolas. It hadn't been a difficult shot and if it had been his turn he would have easily made it as well. "I can see that you are awed beyond words at my marvelous skills."

Laughing, Legolas turned to her. "All right, then, you win this time, but just you wait. I will have my revenge, my lady." Legolas said, as they made their way to the armory and handed their bows and quivers to the weapons master.

"Come along now, Laiqualassë, it is nearly time for dinner and I am famished beyond recognition." Dînwen encouraged.

"Yes, I do believe that our fathers will need to be distracted from the many hours of discussion I am sure they have been having." Legolas laughed, bright and easy.

Thranduil and Glorfindel had indeed spent the day discussing the merits of an alliance between The Greenwood and Imladris. But, they had also discovered another commonality they shared, they both enjoyed fine elven mead and both were overprotective of their children.

* * *

When it came time to return home to Imladris, with King Thranduil's reply to Lord Elrond's missive, Dînwen realized just how fond she had become of the younger elf; Legolas had become as dear to her as the Twins and Arwen were and in a much shorter amount of time.

'It must be that stubbornness he's inherited from his father.' She thought to herself.

She would miss him terribly.

"Well, I think that this means it will be your turn to visit me in Imladris." Dînwen invited, as she hugged the blond prince tightly to her.

"I believe you may be right. When next we meet, I promise you that my skills will have only grown greater, so don't forget to practice or else I shall beat you into the dirt. You'll have to practice your archery everyday just to keep even with my skills." Legolas replied, attempting to keep the mood light.

Dînwen brushed at her eyes, removing the embarrassing tears that had dared to fall from her eyes. Really, she was just as emotional as her father when it came to goodbyes and the like. The two young elves embraced once more before Dînwen mounted her stallion and turned to join her father.

"Na-den pedim ad, mellon nîn." Legolas said, bidding farewell to the Rivendell elves and watching as they turned their horses and left the woodland realm.


End file.
